Exiles

The drawingroom of Richard Rowan’s house at Merrion. The folding doors at the right are closed and also the double doors leading to the garden. The green plush curtains are drawn across the window on the left. The room is half dark. It is early in the morning of the next day. Bertha sits beside the window looking out between the curtains. She wears a loose saffron dressing gown. Her hair is combed loosely over the ears and knotted at the neck. Her hands are folded in her lap. Her face is pale and drawn.

[Brigid comes in through the folding doors on the right with a featherbroom and duster. She is about to cross but, seeing Bertha, she halts suddenly and blesses herself instinctively.]

BRIGID. Merciful hour, ma’am. You put the heart across me. Why did you get up so early?

BERTHA. What time is it?

BRIGID. After seven, ma’am. Are you long up? BERTHA. Some time.

BRIGID. [Approaching her.] Had you a bad dream that woke you?

BERTHA. I didn’t sleep all night. So I got up to see the sun rise.

BRIGID. [Opens the double doors.] It’s a lovely morning now after all the rain we had. [Turns round.] But you must be dead tired, ma’am. What will the master say at your doing a thing like that? [She goes to the door of the study and knocks.] Master Richard!

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BERTHA. [Looks round.] He is not there. He went out an hour ago.

BRIGID. Out there, on the strand, is it? BERTHA. Yes.

BRIGID. [Comes towards her and leans over the back of a chair.] Are you fretting yourself, ma’am, about anything?

BERTHA. No, Brigid.

BRIGID. Don’t be. He was always like that, meandering off by himself somewhere. He is a curious bird, Master Richard, and always was. Sure there isn’t a turn in him I don’t know. Are you fretting now maybe because he does be in there [pointing to the study] half the night at his books? Leave him alone. He’ll come back to you again. Sure he thinks the sun shines out of your face, ma’am.

BERTHA. [Sadly.] That time is gone.

BRIGID. [Confi dentially.] And good cause I have to remember it – that time when he was paying his addresses to you. [She sits down beside Bertha. In a lower voice.] Do you know that he used to tell me all about you and nothing to his mother, God rest her soul? Your letters and all.

BERTHA. What? My letters to him?

BRIGID. [Delighted.] Yes. I can see him sitting on the kitchen table, swinging his legs and spinning out of him yards of talk about you and him and Ireland and all kinds of devilment

– to an ignorant old woman like me. But that was always his way. But if he had to meet a grand highup person he’d be twice as grand himself. [Suddenly looks at Bertha.] Is it crying you are now? Ah, sure, don’t cry. There’s good times coming still.

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EXILES

BERTHA. No, Brigid, that time comes only once in a lifetime. The rest of life is good for nothing except to remember that time.

BRIGID. [Is silent for a moment: then says kindly.] Would you like a cup of tea, ma’am? That would make you all right.

BERTHA. Yes, I would. But the milkman has not come yet. BRIGID. No. Master Archie told me to wake him before he came. He’s going out for a jaunt in the car. But I’ve a cup left overnight. I’ll have the kettle boiling in a jiffy. Would you like

a nice egg with it? BERTHA. No, thanks.

BRIGID. Or a nice bit of toast?

BERTHA. No, Brigid, thanks. Just a cup of tea.

BRIGID. [Crossing to the folding doors.] I won’t be a moment. [She stops, turns back and goes towards the door on the left.] But first I must waken Master Archie or there’ll be ructions.

[She goes out by the door on the left. After a few moments Bertha rises and goes over to the study. She opens the door wide and looks in. One can see a small untidy room with many bookshelves and a large writingtable with papers and an extinguished lamp and before it a padded chair. She remains standing for some time in the doorway, then closes the door again without entering the room. She returns to her chair by the window and sits down. Archie, dressed as before, comes in by the door on the right, followed by Brigid.]

ARCHIE. [Comes to her and, putting up his face to be kissed, says:] Buon giorno, mamma!

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JAMES JOYCE

BERTHA. [Kissing him.] Buon giorno, Archie! [To Brigid.] Did you put another vest on him under that one?

BRIGID. He wouldn’t let me, ma’am. ARCHIE. I’m not cold, mamma.

BERTHA. I said you were to put it on, didn’t I? ARCHIE. But where is the cold?

BERTHA. [Takes a comb from her head and combs his hair back at both sides.] And the sleep is in your eyes still.

BRIGID. He went to bed immediately after you went out last night, ma’am.

ARCHIE. You know he’s going to let me drive, mamma. BERTHA. [Replacing the comb in her hair, embraces him sud-

denly.] O, what a big man to drive a horse! BRIGID. Well, he’s daft on horses, anyhow.

ARCHIE. [Releasing himself.] I’ll make him go quick. You will see from the window, mamma. With the whip. [He makes the gesture of cracking a whip and shouts at the top of his voice.] Avanti!

BRIGID. Beat the poor horse, is it?

BERTHA. Come here till I clean your mouth. [She takes her handkerchief from the pocket of her gown, wets it with her tongue and cleans his mouth.] You’re all smudges or something, dirty little creature you are.

ARCHIE. [Repeats, laughing.] Smudges! What is smudges? [The noise is heard of a milkcan rattled on the railings before

the window.]

BRIGID. [Draws aside the curtains and looks out.] Here he is! ARCHIE. [Rapidly.] Wait. I’m ready. Goodbye, mamma! [He

kisses her hastily and turns to go.] Is pappie up?

BRIGID. [Takes him by the arm.] Come on with you now.

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BERTHA. Mind yourself, Archie, and don’t be long or I won’t let you go any more.

ARCHIE. All right. Look out of the window and you’ll see me. Goodbye.

[Brigid and Archie go out by the door on the left. Bertha stands up and, drawing aside the curtains still more, stands in the embrasure of the window looking out. The hall door is heard opening: then a slight noise of voices and cans is heard. The door is closed. After a moment or two Bertha is seen waving her hand gaily in a salute. Brigid enters and stands behind her, looking over her shoulder.]

BRIGID. Look at the sit of him! As serious as you like. BERTHA. [Suddenly withdrawing from her post.] Stand out

of the window. I don’t want to be seen. BRIGID. Why, ma’am, what is it?

BERTHA. [Crossing towards the folding doors.] Say I’m not up, that I’m not well. I can’t see anyone.

BRIGID. [Follows her.] Who is it, ma’am? BERTHA. [Halting.] Wait a moment.

[She listens. A knock is heard at the hall door.]

BERTHA. [Stands a moment in doubt, then.] No, say I’m in. BRIGID. [In doubt.] Here?

BERTHA. [Hurriedly.] Yes. Say I have just got up.

[Brigid goes out on the left. Bertha goes towards the double doors and fi ngers the curtains nervously, as if settling them. The hall door is heard to open. Then Beatrice Justice enters and, as Bertha does not turn at once, stands in hesitation near the door on the left. She is dressed as before and has a newspaper in her hand.]

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BEATRICE. [Advances rapidly.] Mrs Rowan, excuse me for coming at such an hour.

BERTHA. [Turns.] Good morning, Miss Justice. [She comes towards her.] Is anything the matter?

BEATRICE. [Nervously.] I don’t know. That is what I wanted to ask you.

BERTHA. [Looks curiously at her.] You are out of breath. Won’t you sit down?

BEATRICE. [Sitting down.] Thank you.

BERTHA. [Sits opposite her, pointing to her paper.] Is there something in the paper?

BEATRICE. [Laughs nervously: opens the paper.] Yes. BERTHA. About Dick?

BEATRICE. Yes. Here it is. A long article, a leading article, by my cousin. All his life is here. Do you wish to see it?

BERTHA. [Takes the paper, and opens it.] Where is it? BEATRICE. In the middle. It is headed: A Distinguished

Irishman.

BERTHA. Is it... for Dick or against him?

BEATRICE. [Warmly.] O, for him! You can read what he says about Mr Rowan. And I know that Robert stayed in town very late last night to write it.

BERTHA. [Nervously.] Yes. Are you sure?

BEATRICE. Yes. Very late. I heard him come home. It was long after two.

BERTHA. [Watching her.] It alarmed you? I mean to be awakened at that hour of the morning.

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